


Release

by Einar_Fox



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-04-28 17:50:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14454582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Einar_Fox/pseuds/Einar_Fox
Summary: Assumptions are a bitch.  What happens when everyone accepts the mask you wear at face value and never challenges what they think they know?  What happens when someone chips at your mask?  What happens when that someone is the person who should never see your weakness?  The answers await within.  (Warnings apply to later chapters, Specifically one conversation.  That is all.)





	1. I See You

**Author's Note:**

> ****SPOILERS FOR SEASON FIVE! Do not keep reading if you don't want to be spoiled!****  
> ****Explict Rating in Chapters to come!****  
> ****Slow Burn. Enjoy!****

It was a thing that frustrated him; the fact that so often, people observed the hue of his skin and assumed one thing; brutality. He was Galra, at least a first glance, and he suffered all of the assumptions that came with such an label. There were times that this worked against him, the vast majority, unfortunately, and then there were times that it worked in his favour. This was one of those times.

Prince Lotor watched in silence as the Paladins argued, each debating their own point as to why he could, or could not be trusted. Surprisingly, Shiro, the Black Paladin and Leader of Voltron seemed unerringly committed to aiding Lotor in his goals. It was a curious thing, and one he had been contemplating for weeks now. Throughout all Shiro's suspicions, throughout all that Lotor knew the human had suffered at the hands of Galra imprisonment and experimentation, Shiro still seemed hell bent on helping him. 

His eyes narrowed ever so faintly, glued to the retreating Paladin's back as Shiro, much to the surprise of the others, left the bridge of the Castle. His view points had been laid out, set in stone, and regardless of protests, Shiro did not seem to be willing to budge on what needed to be done. The corner of Lotor's lips quirked in a faint smirk before he once more schooled his expression, his powers of observation and a mind full of calculations going fully unnoticed by the rest of the Paladins present on the bridge. Yes, at times, there were advantages to people assuming you were merely a brute.

As the discussions continued, Lotor excused himself, curiosity tickling at him as he departed the bridge and went on the hunt, drawn inexplicably to go and find the absent Black Paladin. The man was a mystery, despite the information that Lotor had gleaned from the Castle's systems. Takashi Shirogane, human, born of earth, aged to a mere twenty-five years. Lotor shook his head at the thought. Twenty-five years was barely a breath in his own extended existence, and yet the man carried himself as though the weight of all the universe's struggles rested on those broad shoulders. His eyes held so much, emotions elusive, dancing through that dark grey coloring like mists, there one moment and gone the next. 

There were things that Lotor could recognize; horror, fear, confusion, determination, and a rigid strength that, on some days, seemed to be the only thing holding Shiro together.

Turning a corner, Lotor caught a glimpse of the human as he passed through a door and then disappeared again. The Prince jogged to catch up, pausing outside the doorway to briefly glance at the panel next to it. The Training Room. Interesting. His lips quirked in that faint smirk once more. Perhaps the Black Paladin's demons ran far deeper than he had previously assumed.

Stepping closer to the door, Lotor readied himself and stepped through, unsuprised to be greeted by the startled and somewhat confused countenance as Shiro turned to face him.

"Lotor...." His name passed from the Paladin's lips and a little shiver traced its way involuntarily up the Prince's spine. "....What are you doing here?" Shiro seemed to rethink the question and shook his head, eyes closing for a moment before he continued. "Nevermind. Did the others come to a decision?"

Lotor could not help but chuckle softly, shaking his own head, snowy hair swaying behind him as he moved to stand before the human, close, within arm's reach, but not so close as to appear threatening. "No. Nor do I expect that they will any time soon." He offered in response, his gaze traveling slowly up Shiro's arm, the one constructed of Galra Tech, before finally resting on his face. "I must be there, at the Kral Zera... but I hardly need to tell you this." He glanced away for a moment, a quiet, frustrated breath passing his lips before he dismissed that portion of their conversation. ".....but that is not why I've come."

Dark brows knit in confusion as Shiro watched Lotor. There was a time that being so close to a Galra, any Galra, would have filled him with fury, with a fear that threatened to crawl its way out of his every pore and reduce him to a mess of instinctual need to fight, to run, to do whatever was necessary to survive. Strangely, that instinct did not surface now, not even with Lotor so close. "I don't understand." Shiro offered simply, caught off guard by such a seemingly casual visit. "There's a lot we should talk about. We need to figure out a way to---...."

The Prince held up a hand, silencing him gently with another shake of his head. "There is, but we have time. I came to speak with you." Lotor's eyes met Shiro's and a small, almost gentle sort of smile touched Lotor's lips. "Your fellow Paladins, your.... _friends_ , seem not to notice, but I have." He continued, somewhat cryptically, curious to see what his words would do to the other man. As he suspected, Shiro's eyes narrowed defensively.

"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about...." Shiro began, only to be greeted by the Prince's laugh. 

"Do you not?" Lotor replied, a pale brow lifting as he moved, pacing slowly, casually, about the human. "I suppose that is alright. They do not see me either, at least not for all that I am capable of. I am Galra, capable only of cruelty, hmmm?" He cast a glance at Shiro, to make sure that the human was following him, and was met by those dark eyes, following not only his words, but his every movement. Good. "And you. You are their friend, their leader, their rock. How could you ever be anything less?" This statement seemed to throw Shiro off guard, and once more that phantom of uncertainty passed through the Black Paladin's gaze.

Turning to face him, Lotor reached out, slowly, though even such a simple movement made Shiro involuntarily tense as though to pull away. Lotor froze briefly, his gaze connecting with Shiro's before he continued, his hand coming to rest lightly on the other male's shoulder. "I know, Shiro, I know exactly what the Galra do. I know what was done to you, and I see the ghosts of it in your eyes. You may not admit it to them, but you may admit it to me. It is not a weakness to feel fear, to be frayed about the edges with the pull of it.... Trauma is something we have all suffered." His other hand rose, clasping Shiro's other shoulder so that he could squeeze lightly, a reassuring sort of gesture. "But it must be dealt with."

Shiro's gaze shifted then, his body rigid in Lotor's grasp as every emotion that screamed through his veins seemed to cascade through his eyes, a rampant, violent parade that, in the moment, he was unable to control or cease. "You're wrong...." He insisted, though both his tone, the break in it, the set of his body, betrayed the lie. "....I'm fine." More strength this time, false conviction filling his voice and Lotor shook his head, giving him a small shake by the shoulders.

"Do not attempt to dissuade me with lies. I have earned truth, have I not?" The Prince demanded, his tone firm but still unyielding and far from threatening. "If you fear I will tell your friends, I will not. What I ask of you, what I am trying to give you, is release. You were freed from Galra cages long ago... but the bars still remain inside of you." The Prince's hands squeezed lightly on those broad shoulders, thumbs kneading little circles against muscle as he held Shiro's gaze, their eyes locked together, despite the rising anger he saw coiling in the Paladin's expression. "Be angry at me if you wish, but you are not the only one to deal with such demons. It may seem unlikely... but I can help."

"You?" Shiro spat then, that anger untamed in the growl of his voice. "You are the demon. It was the Galra who did this to me! You expect a Galra to fix it?" His body tensed, trembling, as though on the verge of a barely contained attack.

Despite this, Lotor held fast, his chin lifting in quiet victory, his expression softly smug. "So you admit that there is some thing to fix. That is good. More progress than I had expected from a singular conversation. How easily you forget... I am not fully Galra, nor have I ever been accepted as such. In a way, I am as much an enemy of the Galra as you are. So we have far more in common that you are no doubt willing to admit." His lips curved into a smile, though the taunting edge that colored it was clear. "We are two of a kind, you and I, and I see you."


	2. Cracking The Walls

Lotor had to hand it to Shiro, the speed with which the human moved in the seconds that followed was breathtaking, Galra worthy even, a fact which brought the smirk on his face to a full blown smile. Yes, despite what they each felt about the matter, they were both touched by the Galra race in ways that would never escape them. Shiro's hands rose, palms meeting Lotor's chest and shoving him backward in the blink of an eye, but the Prince, ready for such a move, was quick to recover. He slid backwards and settled into an easy defensive stance, well prepared for the attack he knew would follow. 

The Paladin came at him wildly, the tech of his Galra arm near blinding, flaring brilliantly in the dimer lighting of the room around them. Shiro's punch was aimed for his face, but Lotor deflected with ease, using the human's momentum and lack of focus to fling him away. Taking advantage of the space that now lay between them, he spoke. "Attack if you must. I will not stop you. This rage has clearly been pent up inside of you for far too long." 

Shiro whirled on him then, eyes narrowed to deadly, fury filled slits and Lotor tensed, minding his defense. "What the hell would you know about my rage?!" Shiro growled, his arm trembling at his side as though he was struggling to hold back from every thing he wanted to do to the Galra standing before him. "Your kind did this to me!" He held up the Galra arm, the gleaming fist clenched before him, power crackling through the air like the static before a lightning strike. It was truly magnificent to behold. No matter how much Shiro hated the arm he had been given, Lotor could see the beauty in it, enough so that he let his guard relax.

"I know. That is a fact I cannot deny. Neither do I condone it. The Galra have been experimenting on other races, on themselves, for centuries. It is barbaric." The Prince offered, the words matter of fact and said with no pride or justification. "What was done to you--...."

"I was tortured!" Shiro yelled, charging once more, although, this time, his attack was more focused, far less spontaneous than before, causing Lotor to shift quickly back into a defensive posture. The Paladin swung that hand like a blade and Lotor side stepped swiftly, a hand darting out to seize Shiro by the wrist and use that hold to once more swing the human out of striking distance. If the Paladin wanted, needed, to fight him, he would not deny him that, however, he would find ways to mitigate the damage that either of them might do to the other. It would not suit either of them, or their goals, to be tearing apart their allies.

"Yes." Lotor replied, staying on the defensive this time, arms up before him, prepared to ward off blows as he moved cautiously around the enraged human. "You were. As were a great many others. Not that this in any way negates or justifies your pain, or theirs." Shiro swung again and this time, Lotor deflected, spinning around so that they passed, back to back, before rounding to face each other once more. "Why do you hide all that was done from the others?" He questioned, provoking the heart of the matter.

This caused the human to falter, some of the rage bleeding from his eyes as a shadow of shame ghosted across his handsome features. "I don't--.... They already know...." He attempted lamely, reaching to find a defense against Lotor's accusation.

A pale brow lifted, Lotor's head tilting slightly as he watched the human before him. "Do they now?" His gaze flicked upward briefly, noting the forelock of hair, strands drained of color, a sure sign of the trauma and stress that Shiro endured. "Certainly they know some... There are some signs which cannot be ignored, or denied...." Lotor's eyes now shifted to the Galra tech arm. "....other damage runs far deeper." 

Shiro's gaze lowered for a moment, his chest rising and falling in a series of deep breaths, as though he was struggling to find his center once more, to calm and contain the rage that had overtaken him. "What would you know about it?" He questioned, biting each word out like it pained his tongue to voice them. "You think that just because you can tell I'm angry about having my arm ripped off and replaced with this.... thing, that you know me?" The Paladin demanded, defiant eyes rising to Lotor's. "You don't! You don't know a damned thing about me!"

To his credit, Lotor was able to contain the soft laugh that threatened to spill from him. "Maybe you are correct." He admitted, but rather than put an end to this, it was now his turn to go on the offensive. His charge was astonishing in its swiftness, a lethal punch aimed for Shiro's midsection, a blow only barely deflected as the Paladin countered, forearm glancing against forearm. Crouching low and dodging the swing that came for his face, Lotor leapt high, vaulting himself into the air over Shiro's head, body twisting into a flip designed to use the momentum into a vicious downward kick. He gained a small bit of satisfaction at the way Shiro's eyes widened in surprise a split second before the human dodged him and he landed, foot leaving a dent in the training room floor. Lotor continued the movement, flowing with the motion and rolling into a low crouch, one hand braced against the floor as he gazed up at the Paladin. "You are a fighter, Shiro...." The Prince praised softly, maintaining his posture as he watched the other male's shifting expressions. "....but this is not a fight you would have ever chosen for yourself. Not the fight within this room, outside of it, or the one that rages inside of you."

Lotor rose slowly, his long, lean body straightening in a simple, elegant movement as he watched a bit more of that fury bleed out of the eyes of the Paladin before him. Shiro took a step back from him. It was clear that the fight had not been taken out of him, but it was perhaps not as prevalant as before. "No one wanted this fight.... How could anyone want this? Want any of this?" Shiro demanded, the hand of his Galra arm tightening into a fist, both angry and helpless all in the same moment.

"That is my point." The Prince confided then, allowing his body to visibly relax in a way that would signal to Shiro that he no longer expected attack. "You shoulder much, that is plain. Yet you did not ask for any of it." He took a step closer to the Paladin, one hand raising slightly, palm up, open and innocuous. "Who do you confide in, Shiro? The other Paladins?" He huffed a soft little laugh, the sound amused but not unkind. "I think not. Determined though they might be, they are but children still.... and you the one that they look to. We are leaders, Shiro, we cannot show weakness, not to those that we are made to lead."

Realization dawned then, blooming softly and slowly like a flower opening to the sun, and Shiro's expression shifted, his shoulders drooping as he sagged against the wall at his back. He lifted a hand, the heel of his palm scrubbing against an eye before he raked his fingers back, through the snowy tuft of hair then over short cropped black strands. "I...I get what you're saying, Lotor.... but it's not that easy. I can't tell them. You know I can't. I can't let any of them look at me like that, like I'm...."

"Damaged?" Lotor supplied, a hand coming to rest on one hip as he watched the other man, chuckled at the faint glare that Shiro shot his way.

"I never said that." The Paladin denied, that defensive tone creeping back into his voice. 

"No. You did not." Lotor agreed, waving dismissively with his free hand. "But what else could it be? How do you not wish them to see you? Broken? Weak? Afraid? You should be afraid.... people have feared the Galra Empire for eons, do you truly think that you are inadequate because, though you fight them, you also fear them?" Again he laughed, shaking his head as he moved to stand before the other male. "You are strong. That is a fact which cannot be denied. I have seen other victims of Galra experimentation and it is never a pretty thing. Yet here you stand. Changed, perhaps. No longer whole in the way that you were, but still strong." 

He reached out then, slowly, giving Shiro time to pull away should he wish to. When the Paladin held his ground, Lotor took Shiro's Galra arm by the wrist and lifted it, holding it between them, free hand rising so that he could slot their fingers together, Galra flesh to Galra tech, and he lifted his eyes to meet the human's curious gaze. "What was done is barbaric, and I cannot expect you to ever truly embrace it. I know that you have already discovered what an asset this arm can be. You can unlock Galra systems, you can fight against our weapons in ways that others cannot." His gaze dropped, gliding over the craftsmanship that had gone into creating the prosthetic and Lotor shook his head in a silent expression of awe. "Given what I know of Galra tech, this particular piece is a marvel, in both form and function. I look upon it and I do not see something broken or distasteful. I see raw beauty and power. I see a strength that is reflected in the man bearing it." Lotor's eyes drifted back up to Shiro's and he offered a simple, genuine smile. "Do not release your rage, but do not let it consume you either. Take everything you have been given, whether you asked for it or not, and use it. Make it yours, Shiro."

The Paladin listened, it was impossible not to, his attention stolen by the smooth, disarming tone of Lotor's voice and by the sensation of warm skin pressed to his Galra palm. He flexed those fingers, both startled and fascinated by the way their hands felt, joined in that mutual grasp. It was as though the energy that coursed through both his arm and Lotor's veins reacted to that familiarity. His lips parted slightly, quietly awed by this new discovery. A part of him, a large part of him, hated this arm. He could see the glances that the other Paladins cast his way. Time had tempered those looks, but in the beginning, when they had first become aware of the fact that his arm was not his own, he remembered seeing pity, suspicion, curiosity. Here stood someone who saw much more than either a liability or a weapon. Lotor saw things in that arm, in him, that no one else had.

Curling his fingers, his thumb stroking unconsciously up the side of Lotor's hand, Shiro brought his eyes up to meet the Prince's. "I don't.... know how to do this." He admitted quietly, the words almost a whisper, like he was afraid some one might over hear their conversation. He had never opened up before, not about any of this, and his mind struggled to find a place at which to start.

Taking a step back, Lotor did not release Shiro's hand, using that hold to draw the Paladin away from the wall and toward the benches that lined the training area. "Perhaps the beginning?" He supplied helpfully, a soft note of teasing in his tone, an attempt to lighten the mood. "Or perhaps... with the thing that troubles you most. In any case, whatever we discuss will never pass beyond these doors." Lotor moved to sit, finally allowing their hands to part before offering softly. "You have my word."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****As always, Comments and Feedback are appreciated!****  
> ****Enjoy!****


	3. Sounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****Warning for this Chapter! There will be graphic descriptions of torture both on a psychological and physical level. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! Honestly, it's not super gory, but it could be triggering, so this is your head's up! This will likely be the only Chapter with such a warning on it.****  
> ****Also Note, This Chapter is being posted in its raw form. Edited version will appear tomorrow if you want to come back and read it with edits!****

_This is insane._

This was the singular thought that seemed to encompass all others as Shiro tried to make sense of the tempest in his mind. No matter where his emotions directed his thoughts, the vision of Lotor, seated calmly before him, brought that realization back to the forefront. _This is absolutely insane._

Despite that knowledge, it was Lotor, and no other, who had dragged the admission from him. Though he had not yet voiced the words, Shiro knew that no amount of reassurances or hollow denials would convince the Galra Prince that he was fine, as he claimed. For better or for worse, Lotor now knew a truth that not even his fellow Paladins knew, or could ever know. Shiro was far, far from fine.

It was not really the pain that haunted him. No, the mind was a truly a wonderful thing. He recalled the events, everything from his initial capture by the Galra, to the second time he had been taken prisoner. The torture. The loss of his arm. He remembered all of it, in far more vivid detail than anyone might ever believe. His mind had managed to erase most of the actual pain, however, stripping away sensation and leaving him with the cold, hard, factual evidence of all that occurred. 

Honestly, he would have rather had the pain.

What haunted him, what drove him to sleepless nights and moments of panic when his chest seized and his breath caught, stolen from him as though by some force that meant to rip his lungs apart, were the _sounds_.

It was surreal, when he thought about it, his emotions once more falling into a spiral of chaos, his knees trembling beneath him, forcing him to sit on the bench next to Lotor. He felt numb, detached, his ears ringing with the sounds of it all. He did not remember what they used to remove his arm but the sound of it would forever haunt his nightmares, the high pitched whine that scraped across the surface of his mind. Skin had torn, muscles ripping, wet and sticky with blood. The slap of some discarded piece of flesh falling upon the metal floor beneath the table he lay on. Ah, but that barely scraped the surface of the sounds he remembered.

The sound of the pain was the worst. Pain has a sound, and only those people who have suffered injuries so severe as Shiro's would know of it. A sound that was unmistakable, and unforgettable. Shiro's was like a frayed, electrified wire, stretched tight, cracking with energy that burned as a razor's blade dug at its edge. The scraping, screeching, static raking along its ragged metal finish and tearing at the parts of his brain that processed sound. He had never expected pain to be like that, far beyond the physical and reaching deep into the mind, burning itself there in ways that could never, ever be forgotten.

One thing he recalled, an image that had seared itself into his mind as perfectly as the sound, was of his nerves. He remembered turning his head, looking to see what they had done, to see the source of the pain and sounds that were ripping through his brain. His arm was gone, flesh pulled back, bone, muscle and veins exposed, his nerves trailing down toward the floor like the roots of a tree. A touch to them set him on fire, the shrieking of pain raging once more, drowning all other sound out until it was all he could hear, and then, mercifully, he had passed out.

This was the first time he had truly allowed himself to think about it. In the past, when some event, some moment, or sight, or sound, caused the trauma of his imprisonment to spring to mind, Shiro was always quick to quell the memory. It was like bile in the back of his throat, creeping up on him, threatening to spill over, out and onto everything that he was. It consumed him, stealing his reason, forcing the instinct of self-preservation to the surface. He recalled the time that they had managed to capture Sendak. They could have gained so much more information from the Galra warlord, had Shiro not ejected his prison from the Castle in a moment of panic. This pain, this demon from his not so distant past, was slowly devouring him from the inside out.

Shiro drew a breath, giving himself a moment, a pause in the words that seemed to have spilled from him without rhyme or reason, and it was the soft, thoughtful sound from the male sitting next to him that drew him from his recollections. Blinking briefly, as though that might chase away the brutal images that danced before his mind's eye, Shiro turned to look at Lotor. The Prince's eyes were riveted to him, his attention, without a doubt, utterly undivided. Lotor offered a small smile as he realized that Shiro was with him once more. The human had never left, not physically, but in his mind, in those moments that he had shared the dark things that ravaged his psyche, he had been far, far away from the Galra Prince.

"Thank you, Shiro." Lotor offered simply. He did not apologize, nor did he offer any sort of excuse or justification for the things that had been done to the Paladin. He could not make it right, that much he knew. It was likely that nothing would ever truly atone for all that Shiro had lost, but that did not mean that the human's future, his state of well being, both mentally and emotionally, could not be improved. The Galra shifted slightly, turning toward the Shiro and reaching out once more, his fingertips tracing the other male's jaw.

Shiro's eyes widened in surprise, both startled and confused by such an intimate touch. His lips parted as though to question or protest, until he felt the Galra's thumb gently stroke away the dampness left on his cheek. He pulled back, not out of disgust due to Lotor's touch, but more from embarrassment, shamed and chagrined to have allowed such a show of emotion. He lifted his own hands and quickly wiped his face, dispelling any evidence of the tears as he murmured. "I'm sorry..."

"For what?" Came the Prince's question, his voice neutral, lacking any judgement as he added. "Did it help?" He lifted his hand between them so that they could both watch as he smeared the wetness of tears between his thumb and fingers. "Speaking such things aloud, saying to me things that, no doubt, you have not said to anyone before." Lotor looked at Shiro, meeting and holding his gaze. "Have you even said them to yourself when you were alone?"

The Paladin shook his head, wiping a hand over his face once more before drying it on his pant leg. In truth he had not dared. A part of him had always felt that if he had allowed any part of his emotions out that it would be like opening Pandora's Box. The pain and rage and fear would simply spill forth from him in a never ending stream that he would be unable to quell. "I couldn't risk it." Shiro replied, drawing in a deep, cleansing breath and letting it out as he relaxed back against the wall. "I feel so weak... Every time I'd think about it, I'd lose it, I'd just lose everything." He cast a sidelong glance at Lotor, as though looking to see if the Galra understood what he meant. "I can't afford to let it control me like that. I can't be weak." His tone grew stronger, emboldened by his beliefs, by the strength that coursed through his spirit.

"It is not weakness to suffer as you have from the trauma you have experienced." Lotor reminded him, voice low, filled with certainty and yet tempered by gentleness. "I understand why you have not spoken of this before. I would not speak to any Galra of such things, were I in your shoes. But that does not mean you have to exist without an outlet." He shifted, sitting forward, his forearms resting on his knees, silvery hair flowing forward over a shoulder as he looked over at Shiro. "No matter the path that has brought us to this point, you and I are allies. You lead, as do I. As leaders there a things that we cannot share with those whom we lead, but that does not mean we cannot share them with each other." He tilted his head, a faint smile curving his lips. "That is, if you are so inclined toward such an arrangement?"

Shiro stared at him for a moment, dark grey eyes boring deeply into the Galra Prince's gaze, as though he could reach into his soul and tear the truth from within. Was it truly something that he, that they, could share? A faint note of curiosity pulled at him then as he wondered what secrets Lotor might have to share. Likely a lifetime of them, centuries of living within the Galra Empire; no doubt the Prince had traumas of his own to reveal. The thought sent a surge of sadness through Shiro and he sat forward as well, bringing them closer together, their eyes meeting. He nodded once, simply, managing to bring a small smile to his warm his own features as he confirmed.

"Yeah. I think I'd like that, Lotor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****Hope you enjoyed it!****  
> ****Feedback and comments are LIFE!****  
> ****Love you all and thanks for the encouragement!****

**Author's Note:**

> ****Hope you enjoyed this set up for the tale!  
> More to come soon!  
> Feedback and comments are WILDLY appreciated!  
> Thanks all!****


End file.
